If you go into the forest, just far enough so that you begin to wonder if you're lost, you'll hear the music.
At first, it will be subtle; you'll catch a flickering note every few seconds, convincing you that what you're hearing isn't the sound of your mind losing itself. Your feet cool against the moss carpeting the forest floor, you'll find yourself walking as if you're in a trance, arms relaxing, eyes closing partially as you become mesmerized by it.
It's simple music, but there's something about it that calls to you, an aura that sends shivers shattering your drowsy heart, incapacitating any inkling of thoughts you may have had that would convince you to walk the other way. Any self control you may have accumulated over the course of your life vaporizes as the notes drift into your mind. They'll be gentle at first, like a frail spring wind; then, they'll become stronger, like the sound of waves slapping the seashore.
Your body begins to move, every muscle turning to liquid, your arms twisting in strange, fluid motions. It is a peculiar sort of dance. There's a faded familiarity about it, a stonewashed sort of remembrance that lingers mistily in your thoughts. Suddenly, a memory flashes into your mind, and you faintly remember a time of luminescence and soft voices, necklaces of stars and shrouds of spider's webs. Your head tilts, nodding with the music, and you discover that you're singing, uttering delicate words of a language you had no idea you knew.
Then, you begin to see them.
Shining dimly through the trees ahead of you, you see the lights. At first, you wonder if they're fireflies, but as you walk closer, you perceive that they're not.
They are suspended in mid-air, casting icy light onto the surrounding trees. If stars, the envy of every light, plummeted from the midnight sky, even they would pale in significance. Shades of lavender and amber swelter in the middle of the orbs; around the edges, the light fades to silver.
You see him, and you halt, eyes wide, pajama-clad shoulders slumped, bare feet moist from your trek through the woods.
He's leaning against a tree, sinewy arms cradling a guitar, slender fingers brushing the strings. As he sees you, he glances up, ruddy cheeks bathed in silver light, and a smile rushes across his face. Returning his gaze to his instrument, he continues to play.
It's more than music. Music doesn't possess the power to encompass the rapturous delight of what he's creating. You're reminded of every single beautiful thing you've ever seen, each warming breeze you've ever felt, every time you've been entirely happy. From time to time, his eyes flicker up, staring at you. He's not handsome, but he is wonderful, and that alone is enough to make your heart shudder clammily in your chest.
Body swaying, you dance, your body moving independently of your mind. The grin on his face broadens, a strange sort of happiness radiating from the depths of his eyes. Suddenly, as if he can't contain himself another moment, he stands, still playing the guitar. Then, he holds the guitar out in front of him and speaks in his deep voice, cooing lovely words, members of a language contrived of the midnight air. Stepping back, he turns to you; behind him, the guitar stays suspended in the air, the strings strumming by themselves.
Silently offering his hand, he gazes into your eyes. You feel him running over you, caressing your spirit, wrapping himself around your heart. A shy smile fluttering over your lips, you accept his hand, and together you immerse yourself in dancing, entwining around each other. The lights waver as the music comes to an end.
As he leans in, your head tilts back, and the world blends into a harmonious symphony of luminosity.
) The only thing is, it shifted from future tense (I think) to present tense around the third paragraph. 
Gender:
Points: 15440
Reviews: 245